


Childe Winchester to the Dark Tower Came

by Carmexgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-17
Updated: 2011-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-22 18:06:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmexgirl/pseuds/Carmexgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When his childhood friend Castiel disappears, Childe Winchester abandons his one and only chance to become a Knight to save him, embarking upon a perilous journey to Elfland and the mysterious Dark Tower that lies behind its walls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Childe Winchester to the Dark Tower Came

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a mixture of the old English fairy tale Childe Rowland, and the Robert Browning poem Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came. It’s not based on the Stephen King novels mainly because I haven’t read them. Kind of want to now though.

Dean Winchester stared at the small piece of paper in disbelief, heart beating loudly in his chest. His fingers shakily traced letters his eyes had read over and over again, trying to find if there was some hidden meaning, some hidden pitfall behind the words.

Finally, after years of waiting, he had been given a Quest. A bona fide Quest, one that would finally see him graduate to a Knight of the Realm.

Dean had been a Childe, a Knight in training, ever since he was thirteen. As the years rolled by, he saw the other Childes sent on quests that would prove their worthiness, see them become Knights to sit at King Michael’s table. He’d watched with envy as his peers moved on, upwards to better things while he remained. Even his brother Sam, four years his junior, had been on a Quest and found his True Love. He had recently married, was moving on with his life while Dean stayed exactly where he was, no True Love, no Quest, no Knighthood.

Which is why he stared at the paper, not quite taking in what was written within it. Finally, he had the chance to prove himself, to show the whole of Kansas that he could be a Knight, and a great one at that. He looked closely at the details of the Quest. The Princess Elisa was said to be beautiful and kind; she had been taken by the evil King of Snakes, and locked in a tower waiting to be rescued by an honorable Knight. It was standard stuff—boring, if Dean were honest with himself—but it was a Quest nonetheless, and at last he had been chosen to do it. All he had to do was get the girl, kill the evil prince, save her Kingdom, and he would be set for life. Great.

He rolled the paper up tightly in his hand, and exited his hut, knowing exactly where he wanted to go. He had to tell Castiel what had happened.

Castiel was also a Childe, and had been Dean’s best friend since childhood. He too had been waiting for a Quest, but unlike Dean, he didn’t seem restless or concerned with waiting. He was content to watch the others go on their Quests, revelling in their successes while he waited patiently for his chance to prove himself. While Dean was fidgety, agitated, impatient, Castiel was calm, serene, content with what he had.

Dean practically ran to Castiel’s hut, rapping on the door and not waiting for an answer before bursting in. Castiel was stirring a large pot, standing in a white flannel shirt that hung about his knees and nothing else. “Dean!” He exclaimed, “It’s customary to wait until you’re told to enter! I’m not even dressed properly.” He turned a bright shade of pink as he tried to pull his shirt further down his knees.

Dean waved his hands dismissively, ignoring Castiel’s embarrassed display. “Whatever, Cas. Look, look at this.” He waved the paper under Castiel’s nose. Castiel snatched it from Dean, turning it over in his hands while Dean watched him carefully. “The King’s seal?” he said in amazement.

“That’s right.”

Castiel’s eyes widened as the realisation hit him, and Dean couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “Is this…this is a Quest?”

“Right there in black and gold.”

Castiel’s face remained shocked for a while, as if unable to process the information, before it lit up, a smile spreading across his lips. “Dean that’s…that’s fantastic!” He walked over, drawing Dean into a hug. “You’ll be a proper Knight! You’ll be able to show the rest of them who’s the better fighter, the most honorable…”

“Cas, shut up. You’re embarrassing me.” Dean said, blushing but still holding Cas closely.

“I’m right, though. You should give yourself more credit. When do you ride out?”

“Four days from now. I know vaguely where I’m going, reckon it’ll take me two days to ride to the Kingdom of Snakes, a day to get into the tower and rescue Princess Elisa…”

“And maybe a day getting to know her before riding back,” Castiel chuckled.

Dean just nodded. “Maybe.” It was fantastic news, really it was, but for some reason Dean couldn’t find it in him to get excited about it.

“Dean, I’m really happy for you. You’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” They stood in silence for a moment, before Dean began speaking again. “Look, Cas, I just want you to know…nothing’s going to change between the two of us. I mean, you’re still my best friend; we’re still going to spar against each other, and go out riding for days. It’ll still be the same.”

Castiel touched his arm, eyes shining as he smiled. “I know. It would take a lot to change Childe…sorry, Sir Winchester.”

Dean screwed up his face in distaste. “That sounds weird. Can’t you just call me Dean?”

Castiel laughed. “Very well.”

“So…you heard about your Quest yet?”

Castiel shook his head. “No, still nothing. Gabriel thinks I’ll end up doing something like teaching the peasants how to read, or helping the Queen bake cakes. Something low level like that.” He smiled.

“No, no Cas. Something’ll come along, just you wait. I’m sure of it. There’s no way I get to be a Knight and you don’t.” As much as Dean was happy he’d finally gotten a Quest, a part of him wished he could share it with Castiel. They’d been through a lot together growing up, through the deaths of both their mothers and their fathers, and he couldn’t help but feel slightly sad that he couldn’t share something so important to his life with Castiel. Deep down, he was scared that things would change between then, that their friendship would somehow take a back seat to Dean’s Knighthood and inevitable marriage.

Castiel shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe. For now, I’m happy for you.” His smile was large, and genuine, making his eyes spark with happiness. Dean couldn’t help but mirror it.

“Thanks, Cas. Say, do you want to test my sword-fighting skills? I’ll have to sharpen up if I’m going to beat the King of Snakes.”

“Indeed you will. 20 guineas says you won’t beat me, though.”

Dean laughed. “Oh really, Childe Novak? Consider it a bet.”

Quick as a flash, Dean leapt up, grabbing Castiel’s sword from where it lay beside the fire. He then ran out the door, laughing with every step he tool. “10 minutes, Cas,” he called behind him. “See you outside!”

“Fine, but if you sabotage my sword, your head’s going in the pot!” he heard Castiel shout after him.

Finally, it seemed like things were looking up for Childe Winchester.

 

The next two days were spent in intense training. Castiel was probably the best sword fighter Dean knew, barring himself of course, and it was good to test his skills. Dean wasn’t particularly nervous about the Quest, knowing that it would be fairly straightforward as long as he managed to keep a cool head, but he was determined to make a good impression. The Winchesters never did anything by halves, and if he was going to prove himself worthy of a Knighthood and rescue a princess, he would do it with style and finesse.

On the third day he gave Castiel a rest, and concentrated on packing for the journey. His trusty steed, Impala, had been to Singer’s Blacksmiths to get new shoes, and was sporting a brand new, specially made leather saddle and accompanying bags. It took a full day to pack her, and for Dean to get used to riding with a fully-laden horse. That night, he went in search of Castiel to see if he wanted to go for one last drink before Dean commenced his journey. He wanted one last evening with his friend, just the two of them enjoying each other’s company before everything changed. Unusually, Castiel was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t in the tavern, and when Dean walked to his hut he found it empty. Disappointed, he walked regretfully back to his hut.

Dean slept fitfully, excited and apprehensive in equal measure. When the morning light came streaming through his windows he woke, ate a hearty breakfast and dressed in his finest armour before saying one last goodbye to his home. He walked to the stables, checked Impala was ready, and led her out into the paddock. He made a few last minute checks to the bags he had packed, before walking to Castiel’s hut.

He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. He pushed his way inside, to find the hut empty. The fire was cold, and his bed was made, indicating he probably hadn’t slept there that night. He must be at Gabriel’s Dean thought, and couldn’t help the slight feeling of disappointment that ran through him. He was due to set off soon, and there wouldn’t be time to walk to Gabriel’s to say goodbye. Perhaps…perhaps Castiel found it too hard to say goodbye?

Dean shook himself, knowing it was only wishful thinking. Castiel had probably been planning on surprising him before he left. He would almost certainly be part of the leaving party and besides, it wasn’t as if he would be gone forever. A few days and he would be back. Admittedly things would be different but still, he would see Castiel again.

He walked back to Impala to find a crowd of Knights around here. As he pushed through the throng, people began cheering. Knights were slapping him on the back, wishing him luck and telling him that he’d come back a different, better person. As he reached his horse, he saw King Michael standing there in all his finery.

“Your Highness,” Dean said, bowing deeply.

“Childe Winchester. I trust we find you well?”

“Very well indeed, Sir.” He hated using formal language, but his father had instilled in him long ago that he must speak differently when he was in the presence of royalty. It showed them respect. Dean couldn’t quite grasp how, but he went along with it anyway.

“Good, good,” the King replied. Having examined your horse, it seems she is more than up to the task of this quest, as are you yourself.”

“I hope so, sir.” He really did.

The King smiled. “I expect you back within a few days. Not much longer. It is a relatively simple Quest.”

“Indeed it is.” Dean nodded. If he were honest with himself, he’d hoped to be given something more complex, more than a fair maiden trapped in a tower at any rate. However, a Quest was a Quest; if he wanted to become a proper Knight, he couldn’t afford to be picky.

He watched carefully as King Michael pulled something from under his robe. It was a horn, made of bone and covered with intricate decorations of Knights in battle.

“This is a gift, Childe Winchester. It is a Slughorn, made from the bones of the last dragon to ever set foot on Kansas soil. Once blown, it will announce to all that here is someone not to be trifled with.”

Dean stared at it, wondering when on earth he would use it. There wasn’t much a horn could do that his voice could not, he thought. Still, he plastered on his most grateful smile, and took the horn reverently from King Michael’s hands. He looked up at the other Knights, desperately searching for Castiel, but he couldn’t see him. Gabriel wasn’t there either. Not even Sam was there to send him off, and Dean couldn’t help but feel hurt at that.

He raised the horn to his lips, and was about to blow and signal his departure when he heard someone shouting his name frantically. As he stared ahead, he saw Sam emerge from the crowd, eyes wide in panic. “Dean!” he shouted. “Thank heaven I haven’t missed you.”

“Sam? What is it? Is something wrong?” He set the horn down.

“It’s Cas…Cas is gone.”

“What?”

“Cas is gone.”

Dean couldn’t believe it. His oldest friend, just upping and leaving? “Gone? Where? Why?”

“He’s been…taken.” Sam waved his hands frantically. “Taken, Dean. Far away.”

“What? Sam, calm down, calm down.” Dean’s stomach clenched in horror. “He can’t have been taken. He’s the best fighter I know…there must be another explanation.”

“He’s right,” said another voice. Dean whirled round to see Gabriel standing there with his son, a hand on his shoulder, gripping it tightly. His face was pale, his eyes red and he had obviously been up most of the night. The Knights that surrounded them were deathly silent. “Castiel’s…he’s been taken.”

“He can’t have been. What happened?” Dean stepped closer to Gabriel, examining his face closely. Castiel’s brother was well known to be a joker, someone who liked pulling tricks, and Dean could never be sure if he was being serious or not. Until now. The worry etched over Gabriel’s face told him that this was no joke. Something had happened; something bad.

Gabriel looked down at his son. “Castiel was out yesterday playing with Jophiel. They were running around by the church, playing ball and…and…”

“And I kicked the ball over the fence,” Jophiel said, his voice shaking slightly. “So I ran around the church trying to find it, but I didn’t know…I ran widdershins but I know you’re not s’posed to because bad things happen, and this man appeared with horrible yellow eyes and told me he was going to take me far away. But Uncle Castiel got in the way and said he couldn’t, and the man said that if he couldn’t take me, he would curse the whole of Kansas and everyone…everyone would die. So uncle Cas…Uncle Cas…” The boy started crying, unable to finish what he was saying.

“Castiel told the man to take him instead, so he did,” Gabriel finished. “He did it to save Joph and the town.”

Dean stared in disbelief. “So who was this man? Could he really do that?”

“He was a demon. Azazel, by all accounts. As soon as Jophiel told me I went to speak with Pamela, and she confirmed it.”

“So is he…is he…” Dean couldn’t say the word ‘dead,’ just couldn’t. Castiel couldn’t be dead…it wasn’t possible.

Gabriel shook himself. “No. Pamela says he’s locked away, in the Dark Tower that presides over Elfland.”

“Elfland?” said one of the Knights. “But we dare not enter Elfland. It’s too dangerous. They have…The Disease there. Anyone could be infected.”

“Disease?”

“A horrible affliction. It makes a man lust for blood and nothing more. It drives you mad with its craving, so you will stop at nothing to get your fill. No one from our land has been there for centuries.”

“Well, I will be the first, then,” said Gabriel. “I need to save my brother.”

Dean watched as Gabriel’s grip on Jophiel’s shoulder became tighter, his fingers turning white. Dean stared at him, before turning to glance at the other Knights standing there. He caught the eye of the King, and then turned to face Sam. “No, Gabriel,” he said. “You have to stay here and look after Jophiel. It’s too risky. I’ll go.”

There was a collective gasp from the Knights.

“What?” Gabriel stared at him, open mouthed.

“I’m going. I’ll save Cas.”

“But what about your Quest? You’ve been waiting years for the chance to prove yourself. You only get one chance, one Quest.”

It was true. A Childe only got one chance to prove himself worthy of becoming a Knight. If Dean were to give up on his Quest, he would stay a Childe for the rest of his life. But how good would his life be without Castiel?

Dean stared at the other Knights, looking each on in turn directly in the eye, before turning to the King. The King nodded, almost imperceptibly, and Dean knew he had his permission. However, there was one more he needed. He stared at Sam, imploring him with his expression to agree to this. Sam nodded, knowing exactly what was being asked of him, how much Castiel meant to him. “Go,” he whispered. “Save him, and bring him home.”

Dean nodded in thanks. “Gabriel, get Pamela here. I’m going to need to know as much as I can about Elfland. One hour, and then I’m riding out. Chuck, you take this paper. It has instructions on how to save Princess Elisa. I hope you’ll both be very happy together.”

“So, you’re abandoning your Quest?” Chuck stammered.

“Screw the Quest,” Dean said defiantly. “My friend needs me.”

***

Twelve hours he had been travelling. Twelve long, tortuous hours. He’d set off after a long discussion with Pamela, who’d told him which direction to travel in, and what to do once he’d entered Elfland. Pamela was the wise woman of Kansas, and what she didn’t know didn’t bear thinking about.

“When you enter, speak to no-one. Elfland is made up of demons and vampires, whose only desire is to kill you or turn you into one of them. You must chop off their heads, before they can make that happen.”

“Chop off the head. Got that.”

“And, you mustn’t eat or drink anything while you are there.”

“Why?”

“Because the food and the drink will either put you in a trance or kill you. Never forget, you are wandering in hostile lands. They will kill you before asking questions. Trust no one, eat nothing, assume everyone is out to get you. Get in there, save Castiel, and get out.”

 

It had all sounded so simple, coming from Pamela. Now, twelve hours in and unable to find anywhere suitable to bed down for the evening, the saddle was rubbing against him, his sword hung uncomfortably at his side along with the Slughorn that swung back and forth, back and forth, and he was feeling sweaty and uncomfortable.

Impala was faring better, seemingly happy to trot along wherever Dean guided her. Presently, the low light of the sun gave way to the darkness of night, and Dean found he couldn’t travel any more. He stopped at a fork in the road, unsure of which way to go and unwilling to travel down the wrong path at night, dismounted.

Dean patted Impala, whispering, “Good girl,” and opened one of the sacks on her back to feed her some oats and corn. As Impala chomped happily, something caught Dean’s eye. A figure, bent over and shuffling slowly towards him. It wore a long cloak, once white, but now covered in years of dirt and dust. The material formed tattered tendrils that whipped in the wind as the creature walked painfully slowly, a thin stick the only thing holding it up. As it came closer, Dean could see it was an old man, face concealed by a white beard to match his white hair. He shuffled closer, stick held tightly in a gnarled fist that shook with the mere effort of holding it. He looked up at Dean, and even though it was dark, there was a glint in his eye that sent shivers down Dean’s spine.

He wasn’t in Elfland yet, Dean reasoned, so he could talk without fear of being killed. Hopefully.

“Hey,” he said, and the man looked up, baring his teeth. Dean placed his hand underneath his cloak and onto his sword, ready to strike should he need it.

“What brings you here, young man?” The man said, voice like sandpaper across metal.

“I’m looking for the path to Elfland. I need to find the Dark Tower, but it’s dark and I don’t know which path to take. Could you help me?”

The man laughed, eyes almost flashing as he tipped his head back. “I see. Rescuing a loved one?”

“A friend,” Dean replied, feeling himself reddening even though it really was none of the man’s business. “I need to know—left or right.”

“It is an important question,” the man said, before lapsing into silence. The wind picked up, chilling Dean to the bone as he waited for an answer. Minutes went by, before Dean’s patience ended.

“So, will you tell me or not?”

There was movement underneath the man’s cloak, and Dean watched as he lifted a twisted, deformed finger, pointing in front of him. “If you seek the Tower, you should veer left,” he said, but there was a malicious glint in his eye, and Dean couldn’t shake the fear that he was lying. His lips were turned up at the edges, as if trying to conceal a smile, yet he still pointed towards the left path.

Dean waited for a few moments, not sure whether to believe him. “Left?” he questioned.

“Left. Follow the road until you reach the river.”

Again, the malicious smile. Dean stared at the two roads, every instinct telling him not to believe the man. He eventually made a decision. Better to be in the wrong path, than no path at all, he reasoned. “Thank you,” he said, and mounted Impala once more. As he moved, he looked down, but the man was nowhere to be seen.

Typical.

 

Chapter 2

The light had completely faded by the time Dean decided to stop, hitching up Impala to a tree and setting up camp. He gathered a few sticks scattered here and there, and managed to light a fire. The heat and flame gave him some comfort, so alone in the darkness and unsure whether he was indeed on the right path. As he lay beside the fire and closed his eyes, he wondered whether Castiel was warm, whether he had comfort. It was at times such as these; when he felt alone, he would reach out to his most dear and trusted friend, seeking comfort in his words. Castiel would always guide him, always offer helpful and reassuring advice.

His thoughts drifted back to when they were training, possibly not more than twelve or thirteen years old. He had been fighting with his old master, a crotchety man by the name of Campbell, when he was struck on the shoulder. It was a fairly serious wound, needing to be stitched up and covered while it healed, and he remembered feeling utterly useless, sitting in the old barn hiding his shame from everyone. It was Castiel who found him, Castiel with his large blue eyes full of sympathy.

“You should be getting back,” he’d said. “They’re wondering where you are. Your father... he’s very angry.”

“Serves him right for having raised a failure,” Dean had snorted.

“What do you mean?”

“Couldn’t even beat old Samuel Campbell. Won’t be much good as a Knight, will I? Gonna let down the whole Winchester family cos I can’t handle a stupid sword. Stupid thing.”

Castiel had put a comforting hand on his good shoulder. “Your father isn’t angry at that. He’s angry because what Samuel did wasn’t honorable. He should have stopped short because he knew he had won but instead he went through with it. He’s angry because you got hurt.”

“He is?”

“Of course he is. And he’s worried because he can’t find you to see if you’re ok. You have to come back, Dean. He has to know you’re safe.”

So Dean went back to his father, who hugged him and admonished him for running away. He saw Samuel, shamefaced and shunned by the town for not having any self-control, and he knew Castiel was right. He turned from his father’s embrace to see Castiel smiling at him, that knowing ‘I told you so’ look on his face, and he smiled too. He’d had a tingling in his chest then, a feeling of happiness of the sort he hadn’t felt before. He knew everything would be ok after that.

 

Dean woke to watch the sunrise over the plain, the embers of the fire smoldering but still warm. He fed Impala before eating some of the bread, fruit and cereals he had brought with him. There was nowhere to wash, so he made do with a quick brush down before climbing back onto Impala and setting off once more.

The terrain changed; gone were the lush plains filled with grass, plants and trees. Instead the earth turned into a dry brown husk, thin blades of grass poking out here and there; rupturing the surface of the earth in such a manner that Dean fully expected it to start bleeding. The sun seemed to become hotter as he trudged on, taking small sips of water from his flask so as not to waste it. The only sign of life he saw within six hours of riding was a lone horse, blind with paper thin tan skin and ribs that jutted out on either side of its body. How it came to be upon that plain Dean couldn’t fathom—from what he could see, there seemed to be no food or water for miles around. The horse stood as if stupefied, a grotesque parody of a fine creature, and Dean wondered what evil the poor beast must have done to end up in such a godforsaken place as this.

The journey was affecting him, affecting his mood. He’d started out with hope, but this had slowly spiralled into despair the farther he’d travelled. He reasoned that it was probably a trick of the mind, the merciless landscape causing him to doubt himself and his abilities. He paused for a moment, closing his eyes from the unrelenting sun, and thought back to Castiel once more.

This time they were gathered around a table with the other Knights and Childes. It was Gabriel’s birthday, and they were having a feast. Food, wine and beer were flowing freely, and everyone was in extremely high spirits. Suddenly Gabriel stood up, climbed on top of the table and started to speak, thanking everyone for coming and joining him in this celebration.

“And now, I’d like to dance!” he’d exclaimed, before dancing his way from one end to the other, right in front of King Michael, who just looked on, smiling. Dean had turned to see Castiel burying his head in his hands. “Don’t worry, Cas. He’ll be feeling it in the morning.”

“That’s if he still has his head after this,” Castiel had groaned. “Why, why did they give him wine? He never has a good reaction to drink…it brings out his worst traits.”

“The rest of the table don’t seem to think so. Look, they’re laughing.” It was true; the rest of the Knights were clapping and cheering Gabriel on as he performed. Presently he came to Castiel, grabbing his hand and making to pull him up onto the table. Castiel pulled back, shaking his head, but then Dean slapped him on the back and said, “Go on, live a little.” With that, he had allowed himself to be pulled up onto the table and spun around by Gabriel.

Dean watched as Castiel was twirled around and around, a smile breaking out on his face. Soon he was laughing, jumping around with Gabriel, throwing his head back and practically howling with mirth when Gabriel tripped over, falling face first into an apple pie. There were tears in Castiel’s eyes, glistening as they ran down his flushed face; Dean had never seen him so happy, so relaxed, so beautiful.

Dean shook himself of the thought, gave Impala a light nudge, and continued on his way. Two hours passed, and still there was nothing to see but barren plains. Impala had slowed to a regular clip clop clip clop, Dean rocking back and forth with her movements. The motion was so relaxing, Dean found himself dozing off, only to open his eyes with a start when he realised what he was doing. As he looked ahead, his eyes caught something in the distance.

A river. Definitely a river, directly crossing his path. He urged Impala to go faster, to get closer to the river. So the old man was telling the truth; he had taken the right path.

As he came closer, he saw that though the river was fairly small, the current was fast, almost violent. The water frothed and foamed as it ran its course, swirling over large rocks that jutted out from the surface. Along its banks were men, bent double and drinking from the water. They were all old, and thin, and possessed such haggard faces Dean assumed they had lived all their lives on this plain, beaten and burnt by the unrelenting sun. Their features were sharp, skin stretched thinly over bony skulls, so much so Dean imagined he could see sunlight passing through them, picking out thin trains of veins and arteries like some grotesque cartographer drawing a map of the earth’s surface in blood and flesh.

They were moaning loudly, splashing the water over themselves as if in some kind of fit. As Impala halted at the riverbank, Dean stared at the other side, knowing instinctively that he needed to cross, needed to get to the other side and continue on his way. He took a sip of water, and ate a piece of bread in the hope it would give him the quick burst of energy he needed to cross to the other side. The moans of the men and the rushing of water were filling his ears, and Impala started to step from side to side, agitated and restless. Dean knew he couldn’t ride her to the other side, so he figured he would have to wade and swim across instead. The thought of what lay under those currents made him shiver.

Castiel had always been the better swimmer. When they were younger, playing in the lake, he would always beat Dean in a race to the shore. Dean, ever the sore loser, would demand to fight and Castiel always agreed, always let him win. His slim, light frame cut through the water like a knife while Dean, heavier set though powerful, always seemed to struggle slightly. It was probably the only thing Castiel could do better than him, he mused, knowing that Castiel wouldn’t set foot in the river. He’d say it was unclean, filled with disease. He was always so careful.

Was. Dean shook himself. Since when did he talk about Castiel in the past tense? Castiel was alive; even Pamela had said the King of Elfland wouldn’t harm him because he needed him as a bargaining tool. Most likely, he expected King Michael to come and rescue one of his faithful followers, and would probably demand some portion of the Kingdom. It was the way things were; Kansas was constantly under threat from neighbouring Kingdoms, but given that its Knights were so highly skilled, no one had managed it thus far. Obviously new methods were being tried now, with kidnap and blackmail being the favorite. Well, Dean thought, they hadn’t reckoned on the determination of one Childe Winchester.

He dismounted, taking a firm grip of Impala’s reins and leading her forward, her hooves entering the water with a splash. As he looked down, he imagined the water to be clear instead of the muddy filth it actually was. Grotesque images came to his mind of bodies lying still, quiet, deep below the water, skin worn away by the merciless current. He shivered and shook himself, blinking to reveal the muddy brown of the river, and stepped in.

It was cold, so cold. The water swirled around him, the current threatening to knock him over and take him with it down the river. He daren’t look down for fear of seeing bodies, facings contorted into a scream as he stepped on then. He pulled Impala’s reins, and plunged his sword into the riverbed to steady himself. All the while, his eyes were trained on the opposite shore, looking neither left nor right nor down, just straight ahead. Castiel’s words, spoken as they fought not two days ago when Dean had been set on a simple Quest, echoed in his head. “Keep your eyes forward. Don’t get distracted. Keep focussed on your goal.”

“Eyes forward,” he whispered to himself as he moved, “No distractions. Focus.” He plunged his sword into the water to feel his way and froze as a horrified shriek sounded across the river. He lifted the sword out, and found the end to be bloody. He still didn’t look down, convincing himself that it was merely a water-rat he had speared and not a person lying below the surface. Impala reared at the sound, and he pulled on the reins, trying desperately to calm her down. They were nearly there, nearly at the other side. “Focus,” he panted to himself, getting his own thoughts under control before continuing.

Before long, he reached the other side and heaved himself out of the water. Impala mounted the bank easily and they both stood there, staring across the other side of the river. The men were still there, still moaning and throwing water over themselves. Dean shivered, shook himself, and led Impala forward. He was too heavy to ride her, his clothes wet and cold from the river. The sun was warm, though, and he knew his clothes would dry in no time so long as he continued walking.

As he looked ahead of him he saw a circle of men completely oblivious to his presence. Their eyes were completely black, and they were fighting each other with hands and feet, sticks and swords. They were shouting and yelling, spilling blood yet none of them seemed to go down, no one seemed to die. As Dean looked to the sandy ground, he couldn’t see any footprints leading to the circle, and noticed the men were not making any impression in the ground they stood upon.

Dean shook himself again, thinking that his eyes must be deceiving him. He had been travelling for a long time, and realised he hadn’t yet stopped properly to take some substantial food or water. As he rounded the circle, continuing on his way while the apparitions still fought each other, he managed to find a broken down cart, the wood bleached almost white in the unrelenting sun. He sat down, leaning his back up against it, and ate some bread and cheese, drinking some water while Impala ate. He felt better, much better for having eaten, and resolved to make regular stops in future. He couldn’t have his mind playing tricks on him, not in Elfland. His wits had to be sharp if he had any hope at all of rescuing Castiel.

He imagined Castiel now, telling him off. The thing about Castiel was, he was a tactician. His skills with a sword were great, but no match for how he could plan a battle, right down to minute detail. When they had been on long journeys, the rest stops were always meticulously timetabled, something which annoyed Dean greatly. Dean had always been an on the hoof kind of guy, able to adapt and improvise but also prone to making silly mistakes because of forgetting important details. It was why they made such a good team; Castiel could plan, Dean could execute and adapt if need be. Out of all the other Knights and Childes, everyone knew what a formidable team they made, and it was why Dean had been secretly dreading getting a Quest, finding his True Love and having his friendship fade into the background. He’d made a pact with himself that that wouldn’t happen, that his True Love, by her very nature, had to understand the relationship between him and Castiel. It was something that went beyond friendship.

And how he wished Cas was here now, telling him what needed to be done. Stupid man, with his stupid, noble heart, giving himself up selflessly to save his nephew. It was typical of him, and it was why Dean admired him, respected him, loved him.

Dean let out a body-shuddering sigh. He did indeed love Castiel; had done for years. Everything they had shared throughout their lives, the way they stuck together through thick and thin, the way they laughed, comforted each other, the longing looks between them…it all meant something, at least to Dean. The time spent away from him, thinking constantly about him, missing him with a burning passion, physically aching at the thought of him in the Tower…it was like a hole had been burned straight through his heart. The only thing that made him carry on, that forced him to go further, was the thought of those blue eyes smiling at him, grateful for having been rescued.

Yes, he loved him. It might not have been the True Love as defined by a Quest, but it was love all the same. He wouldn’t have given up his Quest if he didn’t. He would fight to the death if it meant he could save Castiel, if he could see him smile just one more time.

He stood up, and with renewed vigour coupled with dry clothing, he packed away his things and mounted Impala, setting off with increased speed. He would carry on through and get to Elfland as soon as he could. No more time would be spent meandering along, imagining things that weren’t there, letting his mind play tricks on him. The King of Elfland was widely said to be a tricky customer, and Dean needed his mind to be sound if he had any hope of beating him. The only thing that could save Castiel was beating the King at his own game, and Dean needed all of his strength and his wits to do it.

 

The grass grew plentiful the farther Dean travelled, until he came across a large patch of ground covered in tree stumps. He supposed it must have been a wood at some point, felled by whatever creatures inhabited Elfland to build their dwellings, without them having the sense to plant more. The air grew colder as he continued along his way, the soaring temperatures and dryness of the other side of the river giving way to moist air and cloud cover. Dean welcomed the coolness, as it made the journey more bearable and stopped his mind from playing tricks on him in the heat. Impala grunted as she walked, the ground seemingly getting spongier as she walked until it gave was to marshland, cattails sticking up everywhere. It was difficult to navigate, as every time Impala took a step she sank a few inches into the ground.

They continued on, water splashing around Impala’s hooves as she navigated through the marshes and onto drier, more solid ground. The ground turned from green to red, indicating the presence of clay underfoot . Still they continued, with Dean determined to make Elfland before the day was out. Next came sand, heavy, again difficult to navigate, and Dean had to stop a few times to give Impala a rest and some water. It was usual to have so much different terrain in such a short space of time, and Dean began to feel like he was in some kind of alternate land, a land that didn’t follow the rules of normality anymore, that could twist and turn in the blink of an eye, leading the weary traveller to his death if he wasn’t careful.

It was something he hadn’t considered when he’d started the journey, that his life could potentially be in danger. His one overriding through had been Castiel, and Castiel’s safety. Nothing else mattered to him. He’d been told by his father that he had the tendency to be reckless, to jump without looking, place himself in unnecessary danger because he never thought of the consequences. This was different, however, because the thought of Castiel trapped in that that tower consumed everything. He had to free him, had to make sure he was ok.

The sandy ground seemed to sprout patches of grass and moss, marking the earth like curious green boils. As he stared ahead, he could see a lonely tree, an oak perhaps, hundreds of years old. Its trunk was gnarled and twisted, seemingly broken apart into two huge branches with no leaves. Through the middle was a huge split in the trunk, revealing a hollow blackness inside. It looked like some grotesque mouth, open in fear and warning any traveller not to go any further, that death could lie ahead. Dean shivered, ignoring it and cursing his own mind for even contemplating the possibility

On they travelled, and Dean felt Impala begin to slow. He himself felt weary, the monotonous movement of his horse, the endless blue sky making his eyes grow heavy. The sun was setting now, a bright golden hue that deepened to orange, then red as it dipped lower in the sky. He felt his eyes closing, when a noise to his left suddenly set his nerves on fire. A huge black bird, possibly a crow but Dean couldn’t be sure, swept near him. It was so close, Dean was sure he felt the wind from the beating of its wings against his skin. He watched as it flew into the sunset, straight ahead of him, and he somehow had the compulsion to follow it. He didn’t know why, but something in the back of his mind told him it was the right thing to do, and he was following the correct path.

As he looked up, he noticed with surprise that there were mountains ahead of him, in the distance. It was as though they’d crept up on him all of a sudden, taken him by surprise. As he moved closer, the mountains grew, with more mountains seemingly popping up from nowhere until he felt completely surrounded, stuck in a large valley with no way out. He halted Impala and dismounted, looking all around to try and get his bearings. He felt completely lost, unable to see any way out of his, watching as the last sliver of the light from the sun slowly disappeared behind the oppressive wall of mountains. He walked around the valley he found himself in, one, twice, three times, not caring that he walked widdershins, not caring what could happen to him. As far as he was concerned he was hopelessly lost, trapped with no way out, his love stuck in the Tower with no hope of rescue. He had failed, and he hadn’t even had a chance to fight.

“Come here!” he screamed, his voice echoing around the valley. “Come here, King of Elfland! Show your face! Get out here and fight fair. Only a coward hides in the dark!”

Nothing. Silence.

He closed his eyes and sighed. It was hopeless.

Suddenly Impala snorted, shifted from hoof to hoof, and he opened his eyes to see what was worrying her. He looked forward, noticing two misshapen hills to the left of his vision that he felt sure were not there before. He motioned for Impala to start walking towards them, having a curious feeling that they weren’t quite what they seemed. As he got closer, he noticed a small gap in the middle of them, the size and shape of a door. On he travelled, as if some unknown force was pulling him towards the gap. There was light at the other side of it, and as he walked through the small cavern, it was as though he had passed through the two hills, and out the other side.

It was another valley, but littered with huts and dwellings , not desolate like the one before. Every bone in Dean’s body screamed at him that this was Elfland, this was the place he had been searching for. He lifted his head to scan the horizon and there, bathed in the last glimmer of sunlight from the setting sun, was a tall, round building with a single window at the top. Dean took in a deep breath, trying to contain his relief.

He’d found it. He’d finally found the Tower.

 

He wanted to cry out, whoop for joy at finally being victorious, at finding the Tower and the precious life that lay inside it. It was all he could do not to charge at it, waving his sword at anyone who dared cross his path and not stopping until he had Castiel safe. He managed to contain himself, reason telling him that he’d travelled a long way, it was dark, and he was tired. He should find somewhere safe to bed down, away from prying eyes and dangerous hands, and sleep until morning. From what Pamela had told him, he would need all of his wits about him if he were to survive Elfland and save Castiel.

He managed to find a suitable place to sleep –an area of woodland just on the outskirts of Elfland, thick, dense trees hiding his whereabouts. He ate what he could from his food stash, before bedding down for the night under the watchful eye of Impala.

As he dozed, entering that strange, twilight world between wakefulness and sleep, his thoughts again turned to Castiel. Only one person knew how he really felt about Castiel and that was Sam. Sam had just become a Knight, having returned from his Quest with his True Love, a beautiful maiden by the name of Jessica. Dean had been happy, ecstatic even at the thought of his little brother finally becoming a Knight, and at such a young age too. Sam was about to be married, which led to a drunken evening of them talking about their feelings, celebrating Sam’s last night as a single man. He remembered how Sam’s eyes had shone when he spoke of Jess, knowing that she was the right one, his True Love, and that he was going to spend the rest of his life with her. Dean was happy for him, truly happy for him, yet this happiness amplified his own feelings of how he and Cas could never be.

It didn’t work that way for a Childe. Every Childe had a Quest, and every time they found their True Love. It just happened, had always happened, would always happen. True Love didn’t train with you, didn’t conspire with you at the back of Chivalry class to put ants in the tutor’s underwear; didn’t spend hours sitting with you in your room, talking about hopes and fears for the future. From what he’d heard, when you met your True Love you knew in your heart that it was right; you didn’t pine for years after you realised your feelings. True Love reciprocated, and apart from the glances they shared, the small touches of hands, brushes of fingers against fingers, Dean couldn’t say that Castiel reciprocated his feelings at all. As far as he knew, Castiel saw him as his best friend, his closest ally, and nothing more.

Sam must have sensed his bitterness, because he had asked him. And Dean, emboldened by drink and moroseness, told him. He’d never forget Sam’s words, not to his dying day: “Maybe, maybe you’re not like everyone else. Maybe your Quest is to find a way to be truly happy. If that involves Cas, then so be it.”

Dean couldn’t go into the many ways that statement was wrong; he’d just shaken his head and downed more ale. The next day, he’d shrugged it off and he and Sam never spoke about it again, despite the many glances Sam threw his way when he was with Cas. When his Quest came through, it was proof enough that he and Cas were never truly meant to be.

And yet here he was, having thrown away his only chance at becoming a Knight, just to save his friend. Someone who meant more to him that anything, besides Sam, and someone he would gladly lay down his life for.

The King of Elfland wouldn’t know what hit him.

With that thought, Dean drifted off to sleep. He slept lightly, senses trained for anything unusual, ready and waiting if something came looking for him. Pamela’s words echoed round his head, speak to no one, don’t eat or drink anything, chop off their heads. It all sounded so simple.

 

Chapter 3

Dean woke with the dawning of the sun. Quickly he ate, gathered his belongings and packed Impala once more. He mounted her, and they walked slowly towards the edge of the woods, still concealed by the thick foliage. Elfland in the daylight was not much different to Elfland at night—it was still dark and inhospitable. The creatures of Elfland looked very much like those of Kansas, except some had eyes as black as soot, while others sported mouthfuls of pointed teeth. A heavy sense of threat hung in the thick, almost cloying air of this land, filled with the black smoke of industry, of machines built for war. Dean shivered, wondering how on earth he could enter the land, get to the Tower and get inside without being found out. His chance came when he saw a lone figure, a cloaked demon, walk in his direction. He dismounted, drawing his sword and waited until the creature was within striking distance. He hesitated for a moment, unsure for just a second, and the demon spotted him, pulled a knife from its cloak and walked towards him.

“What brings you here, stranger?” It rasped.

“I seek the Tower,” Dean replied.

“No one gets to the Tower,” it said, snarling. It raised its knife but Dean was too quick, striking at the creature’s core. Immediately it fell forward, dead, hitting the ground with a thump. Dean worked quickly, stealing the cloak and knife before remembering Pamela’s instruction. One swift blow to the neck was all it took to sever the creature’s head from its body.

He set off again, concealed in the demon’s cloak and carrying its knife to ward off anything else that may come his way. Ahead of him he could see the Tower, watching over Elfland, surrounded by nothing more than a couple of demon guards. He continued on, Impala’s steps getting more and more hesitant as they got closer. “Shhh,” he said, soothing her. “Shhh, c’mon, it’s going to be fine. Trust me.” He patted her flank, and continued to move forward.

Sure enough, the disguise worked and he managed to get to the Tower unheeded. Getting in the Tower would be a different matter entirely. The King of Elfland’s residence was heavily fortified, with guards at every entrance. Dean circled the thing twice, looking for some kind of weak spot but finding none. Eventually he arrived at the front door, deciding that if he couldn’t get in unnoticed, he may as well make as much fuss as possible. Looking through his bag, he found the Slughorn. He placed it to his lips, and blew. A deep, booming call rang out across the whole of Elfland, and as two demons approached him, Dean proclaimed:

“I am Dean Winchester. I come to the Dark Tower to speak with Azazel, King of Elfland!”

“And what makes you think he wants to speak to you?” One of the demons asked, its teeth glinting.

“I bring him a gift—this Slughorn, made from the bones of the last dragon ever to set foot in my land. It is a symbol of the union I wish to forge between our two worlds.”

“A union?” The other demon smiled. “The King does not form ‘unions.’ He takes by force. He does not share.”

“Then I don’t wish to share. I wish to give him my lands entirely, and beg…beg…” he couldn’t think of the word. All that time spent in Quest classes, learning how to speak, the right language to use…he couldn’t think.

“Beg for what?”

“Clemency.” That’s it. “I wish to beg the King for clemency. May he be merciful.”

The demons both laughed, opening the door to the Tower. Dean dismounted, facing the demons. “Thank you,” he said, before pulling out his sword and striking, chopping off both of their heads in one. He turned to Impala, patting her nose. “Stay out of sight,” he whispered. “I’ll be back.” With that, he ran into the Tower.

Inside, he found himself in a narrow stone passageway. It was dark, too dark to see, so Dean placed his hands on the cool walls and felt his way forwards. After a while, his hands fell upon wood, raised in some parts. It had to be a door, Dean thought, and so he pushed against it, hard. It swung open, and there before him had to be the most breathtaking sight Dean had ever seen.

It was a grand hall, as wide as it was long, with a roof supported by pairs of large, ornate pillars along its length. They were covered with gold and silver, and around them hung wreaths of bright flowers that seemed to sparkle. Arches met in the middle of the roof, covered with clusters of what looked like diamonds and rubies. In the very middle of the room, hanging by a thick gold chain was a lamp, made from a huge, hollowed-out pearl that gave an early, transparent glow.

A large, oak table stood at the far end of the room, two thrones on either side. Sitting on one side, resplendent in the robes of a prince, was Castiel.

Dean’s heart practically sang at the sight of his friend, alive. He ran over to him, shouting, “Cas! Cas, oh thank heaven you’re ok!”

But Castiel said nothing. He merely looked at Dean, expression blank, unrecognizing, before turning his eyes away and staring straight ahead of him.

“Cas?” Dean said cautiously. Castiel didn’t reply. “Cas it’s me, it’s Dean.” He reached out, wanting to touch Castiel’s face but before his hand to make contact with his skin, Castiel’s eyes darkened and he turned towards him, hissing. It was then Dean could see Castiel’s teeth, transformed, sharp, pointed.

“He will not recognize you, Childe Winchester,” a voice said behind him, and Dean turned so see a man smiling at him. He was dressed in the clothes of a King, with a crown on top of his head. He smiled darkly, revealing row upon row of sharp pointed teeth.

“Who the hell are you?”

The creature smiled. “I am the King of Elfland. I am the person you seek.”

“Then let him go,” Dean said darkly. “Let him go or I will kill you.”

The King laughed. “Oh my, Childe. You don’t understand. Castiel does not want to leave.” He walked over to Castiel, and angled his head towards him. Their lips crashed together, Castiel at once animated and eager, moaning in the back of his throat as he kissed the King deeply, desperately, like he was the very air he breathed.

Dean felt sick to his stomach, yet couldn’t turn his eyes away. Eventually the King pulled away, smiling. “You see, he doesn’t want to go back with you. He wants to stay here with me.” Dean looked towards Castiel again, seeing that he had once again resumed his position at the table, staring straight ahead of him with dark eyes.

“He’s under a spell.” Dean said. “You’ve enchanted him. He would never…he’s an honorable man. Let him go.”

“You seem to have trouble understanding, Childe. Castiel does not want to go. I will not let him go.”

Dean stared at the creature sitting at the table, the person he once loved, that he still loved. “Then take me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Take me. Let him go, and I will take his place. Take me, use me as you will.”

“Oh, the legendary Winchester self-sacrifice. News of your family travels even here. Well I’m sorry, Childe, but I already have what I want. Now leave, get out of here.”

“No,” said Dean defiantly. “I’m not leaving here. You’re not getting away with this.” He drew his sword, glinting in the light of the hall, and pointed it towards the King. “Last chance. Let him go.”

The King smiled, drawing his own sword from his cloak. “I never wanted this to end in bloodshed, but you’ve forced my hand. Prepare to die, Childe Winchester.” The King struck first, aiming a blow to Dean’s head which Dean immediately parried, their swords clashing together harshly. They moved away from the table and into the centre of the hall, dancing around each other as their swords flashed. Dean aimed a blow to the King’s solar plexus, but he successfully blocked, trying to twist the sword out of Dean’s hand without success.

“You have a firm grip, Childe. You must have been taught well.”

Dean ducked as the King swung for his head, leaning forwards to try and pierce the King’s heart only to be blocked. “Don’t patronize me,” Dean panted, swinging his sword.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” the King replied. He aimed his sword, catching Dean unawares. Fortunately, it was the wrong angle, so the only damage done was a deep cut to Dean’s thigh. Dean hissed in pain, turning away for a brief second before striking back, missing the King entirely. The King laughed, realizing that Dean was tiring, weakened after his long journey. As Dean moved forward, the King stepped away and Dean tripped, falling to the ground. He lay there, watching as the King aimed his final, killer blow, when his eyes flicked towards the table, towards Castiel.

Castiel was watching him intently, his eyes still dark. There was a change to his expression—before it was impassive, now it was sad, imploring him to do his duty, to help him. With renewed strength Dean rolled over just as the King struck down, and leaped to his feet. As the King collected himself to turn around, Dean managed to knock him down to the floor, the point of his sword sticking in the King’s fragile neck.

“Let him go.” Dean said, “Or I will kill you.”

“Stupid Childe,” the King spat. “The only way to free him from this place is to kill me. And yet, kill me, and all of my children die, including your precious Castiel.”

“You’re lying.”

“Try me. You know it to be true.”

Dean stayed there, frozen. The King had to die, but if he killed him, Castiel would die too. Keep the King alive, and Castiel would stay enchanted, transformed forever. But he couldn’t…he couldn’t lose him. He couldn’t.

He looked up, his eyes meeting Castiel’s. Castiel’s eyes shone, a small glimmer of cerulean in amongst the dark. His eyes were wide, almost pleading. It was like the real Castiel was inside there, trying with all his might to get Dean to do the right thing. Castiel, his Castiel, the man he knew, would rather die than let evil spread.

A tear fell down Dean’s face, as he mouthed, “I’m sorry.” With one swing, his sword cut through the King’s neck, killing him instantly. All around him, Elfland shook, the screams of thousands of vampires and demons ringing in his ears.

As he stood up, a horrible, gut-churning scream throughout the hall. Castiel had slumped to the floor, clutching his stomach in pain.

“Cas!” Dean shouted, rushing over to him. He knelt down beside him, pulling him into his lap. Castiel blinked, his eyes once more a beautiful, sapphire blue.

“Dean,” he coughed.

“Cas I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I couldn’t…” Tears were streaming down Dean’s face, falling onto Castiel’s clothes.

“Dean,” Castiel managed. “Thank you.”

“But…”

“You did the right thing.”

“But Cas,” the tears were getting worse. He’d failed. He’d given up a Quest to save his friend, the man he loved, and he’d failed.

“No. Dean. Thank you.”

“No, Cas, I…”

“Please. I need…I have to tell you something, before...”

“But Cas…”

“You saved me, Dean. Saved me from a life of solitude with your friendship. You taught me what it meant to love, Dean. To love you. All my life I… I knew I would…I would have loved you till the day I died. I’m so glad I was right.” He closed his eyes.

And then suddenly, in the midst of despair, Dean knew what to do. It was as if his whole life had been leading up to this, this one moment. It felt like a flame had started in his heart, travelling through his veins and arteries and setting fire to his whole body. He leaned down, felt Castiel’s shallow, labored breathing, and pressed his lips against his.

The fire in his body felt like an inferno now. He could feel it escaping from his lips, transferring to Castiel and infusing his whole body with its flame. He felt Castiel’s lips move, and as the kiss deepened, Castiel became more animated, began to respond and move with Dean’s kiss. His arms wrapped around him, gripping him tight and when the kiss ended, Castiel was smiling, looking more alive than ever.

“Dean,” he said.

“Cas,” said Dean, wiping the wetness from his face.

“I spent a lot of time imagining our first kiss,” Castiel whispered, still clinging to Dean. “Don’t think it ever went like that.”

Dean kissed him again, feeling Castiel get stronger with each press of lips, with each stroke of his tongue. A loud crash sounded outside, making Castiel pull away. “We have to go,” he said.

Dean nodded. He stood up, pulling Castiel with him and running to the door at the far end of the hall. “Do you have your sword?” He asked Castiel.

“It was taken away from me when the King brought me here.”

Dean nodded. “Ok. Stay close. I’ll protect you.”

“Always, Dean,” Castiel replied, smiling.

 

The King of Elfland was not quite right. The vampires of Elfland lay dying, but the demons, though few, were still healthy and intent on exacting revenge on the killer of their master. Dean ran through the passageway with Castiel close behind him, crashing through it and swinging his sword at every demon he saw. Pam’s words still echoed in his head, and he was determined not to let any demon who crossed his path survive.

They exited the passage, confronted by four demons all holding swords. As they swung, Dean could see that they were slow, lacking strength and technique. He heard a cracking sound behind him, and turned quickly to see Castiel had aimed a brutal kick to a demon’s head, making him drop his sword. Castiel grabbed it, swinging to cut the demon’s head off, before turning to face the other three with Dean.

“Good job,” Dean said.

“I have my uses,” Castiel replied, blocking a strike from a demon. Dean ducked, thrusting his sword forwards and catching a demon in the stomach. The creature yelped and fell to the floor, while Castiel struck and chopped of its head before it could even hit the ground.

Dean smiled. “We make a great team.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” said Castiel, returning the smile. Dean successfully blocked a blow to Castiel’s head, before quickly striking and dispatching the demon. The remaining creature stood still, staring at them, eyes flicking from one to the other. In a flash, it threw down its sword and ran, leaving the way clear for Dean and Castiel.

Dean searched for Impala. When he couldn’t locate her, he grabbed the Slughorn, lifting it to his lips. The sound resonated across the whole of Elfland, drowning out the sounds of dying vampires and screaming demons. He caught sight of Impala, trotting towards him. She whinnied in appreciation, and leaned in to Castiel so he could pat her heard. “It’s good to see you too, girl,” he said.

Dean mounted her quickly, with Castiel jumping on right behind him. He stared ahead of him, vision full of screaming creatures, of smoke and fire. He shivered, wondering how in the world he could make it out of this place alive when all of a sudden, he felt arms around him. Castiel held him tightly, leaning in to him and suddenly Dean knew he had to go on, had to get out of here and get back home.

With a sharp kick, Impala galloped away, somehow instinctively knowing the way out of Elfland. As they galloped, Dean leaned over his right and began swinging his sword, killing any demon who dared to come near. Castiel did the same on the opposite site, which the screams and the sounds of destruction rang out across the land. All around them was chaos—black smoke, fire, ash swirling in the air as the wind increased, howling across the plain.

Impala continued on, back to the gap in the two hills. She was nearly there, nearly free when her leg caught something and she tripped, sending Dean and Castiel flying. They hit the ground, Dean face first and on his knees. When le looked up he saw a female demon standing in front of him, smiling. He eyes were black, her hair hung about her face like rats tails, and her teeth glinted in the yellow light of burning Elfland.

“Thought you were free, didn’t you?” she sneered. Dean tried to reach for his sword, but she stamped on his hand, making him yelp. “Destroy my land and expect to get away with it?”

“Don’t,” Dean began, but he could see her pick up his sword and dangle it above his head.

“ I hope Hell is welcoming,” she said, about to strike. Dean closed his eyes, hearing the sound of metal cutting through flesh. When he opened them, he saw the headless body slump to the floor, Castiel standing behind it, panting.

“Consider us even,” he said, helping Dean up.

Dean grabbed Impala who was limping slightly, and stroked her mane. “I know you’re hurt, but you need to get us out of here,” he whispered. “Can you do that?”

Impala grunted. Dean lifted himself up, helping Castiel behind him, and they set off. Finally, after a few agonizing minutes, they reached the gap, navigated their way through it, and came out the other side.

 

They continued on until they reached the start of the marshes, Dean at pains to ensure they were safe before they bedded down for the night. They managed to find some firmer ground, with enough grass for Impala to eat and regain her strength. Castiel used the demon’s sword to hack at a tree stump, managing to gather enough lumps of wood and kindling to start a fire.

 

They sat, bathed in the warm comforting glow of the fire, eating the rest of Dean’s food.

“So,” Castiel began. “Your Quest.”

“I didn’t take it.” Dean said flatly.

Castiel’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I didn’t take it. I gave it to Chuck. Saving you…saving you was more important.” Dean could feel himself going red.

Castiel looked down. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t deserve such a sacrifice.”

Dean stared at him, right in the eyes. “Yes. Yes you do. Given the choice, I would do exactly the same again.”

“But you’ll never become a Knight. You’ll never get to prove yourself. I’m not worth that.”

“You are. I couldn’t have lived with myself knowing you were trapped there, under the King’s spell forever. I…” he shuddered, not wanting to think about it. “I love you. Always have. My life…wouldn’t have been worth living without you in it.”

He could feel himself blushing again, not being used to talking about his feelings without being emboldened by alcohol. He looked down, trying to find something interesting in the grass before looking up to find himself staring directly into Castiel’s eyes. Castiel leaned forward, capturing his mouth and they kissed slowly, softly.

Dean moved his arms, placing one hand on Castiel’s cheek and the other at the small of his back as they kissed, the kiss becoming deeper, harder, almost desperate. All those years of silent longing, of wanting but not knowing if he were wanted in return were brushed away with that kiss until finally they broke apart, panting and smiling.

As the night wore on, kisses turned to caresses, clothes being shed as caresses turned into touches slow and soft, mapping out each other’s bodies and calling out their pleasure in the dying embers of the fire. They slept together, warm, sated, safe in each other’s arms until the dawning of the sun woke them.

 

There was no time for breakfast. Instead, they loaded up Impala as quickly as possible and set off on the journey home. The lands seemed strange, almost transformed as they made their way back. The river saw no wailing men at its banks, no bodies below the surface. It was as though the land was changing, finally being able to breathe after so many years of suffocation.

It was strange how much shorter the journey seemed now that Dean knew Castiel was safe. His stomach wound itself in knots with the excitement of seeing Sam again, of reuniting Castiel with Gabriel, and recounting the tale of his journey. Most of all, he was excited to be on the cusp of the rest of his life, of finally just being with the man he loved without having to adhere to tradition. He’d given up his Quest; he had no obligations in that respect and could therefore do what he wanted.

Which is when it hit him. Castiel still hadn’t had his Quest. He would still have to find his True Love, which meant Dean…Dean would have no one. His heart clenched and he tensed. To go back to Kansas would mean losing Castiel, yet if he didn’t, he would never see his brother again.

Castiel must have felt the tension in his body, as cool lips touched his neck. “What are you thinking?” He asked, kissing a trail up to that sensitive spot below Dean’s ear.

“Nothing,” Dean lied.

He could feel Castiel sigh. “You know,” Castiel said, kissing his way down his neck, “I wonder what my Quest will be in the end?”

Dean tensed again, and he felt Castiel’s hands grip him tighter. “I don’t…” he began.

“It doesn’t matter,” Castiel interrupted. “Because I won’t do it.”

“Cas,” Dean began. It was alright for him to throw away his future, make that decision because Childe Winchester was well known for having a reckless streak, but he didn’t want Castiel to do the same.

“I won’t do it,” Castiel repeated. “I have everything I want right here. I don’t need to be a Knight, and I certainly don’t need a Quest to find my True Love. He’s already here.”

Dean sighed. “Cas…I’m not…you know how it works.”

“I do, and I’m choosing to reject that. You are everything I need, Dean, and to know there’s a chance I can have you…I’m going to take it. I don’t care what the consequences are, because what I gain will far outstrip them.”

Dean felt as though his heart were going to burst. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Castiel replied, kissing his way back up Dean’s neck. “I’ve spent a long time loving you. I’m not giving this up now.”

 

They continued on, approaching the familiar fork in the road. Dean looked around for the old man with a malicious glint in his eye, but he was strangely nowhere to be seen. They stopped to eat, with Dean recounting the vision of the twisted old man here. Castiel mused that he may have been some kind of spirit, there to make Dean doubt he was on the right path. It seemed strange that the King of Elfland would have gone to such lengths but then, with Pam’s warning ringing in his ears, Dean mused that perhaps anything was possible.

Impala was shifting from hoof to hoof as they finished their meal, impatient. It was as though she could smell Kansas, and was desperate to get back there. Dean surmised that they were 12 hours away from home at walking pace; he’d have liked to have gone faster, but with Impala’s leg as it was, she was in no fit state to gallop. They pushed on for another couple of hours before finding shelter in a wooded area, trees all around with a river running through it.

There, he spent a second night with Castiel wrapped in his arms, staring up at the stars in the night sky and thanking them for keeping him and Castiel safe, and for giving him this chance of happiness. When morning came they set off early, estimating the ride to be about 10 hours, meaning they could get back to Kansas by late afternoon.

Dean was excited, desperate to see his family again and return triumphant, but he still had nagging doubts. He had sought and gained King Michael’s blessing for this journey, flying off without really thinking about the consequences of his actions. What if he couldn’t remain a Childe forever? What if in giving up his Quest he would be banished from the King’s table, have to find an occupation to pay for his home and his family?

Again, he felt soothing lips caress the back on his neck, slowly making their way up and around to his ear. It didn’t matter; of course it didn’t. As long as he had Castiel, and Sam and his family, he would be happy no matter what he did.

The hours rolled on and the scenery became more and more familiar to the both of them. Impala was impatient to break into a gallop, knowing she was nearly home, and Dean had to wrestle with the reigns slightly to stop her. He didn’t want her damaging her leg further, not when they were so close to home.

Dean was on familiar ground now, so he steered Impala to the right and up an embankment that he knew overlooked Kansas. A few more steps and there, sprawling out before them, was his home. Fifteen minutes and he would be there, and yet he paused, rummaging around in one of Impala’s saddle bags until he pulled out the Slughorn. He turned to grin at Castiel, who merely rolled his eyes. He was Dean Winchester after all; he had to make a big entrance.

He put the horn to his lips and blew, the sound resonating around the valley. Tiny figures in the distance stopped what they were doing and stared, wondering what the noise was about. Dean smiled to himself, handed Castiel the horn to pack away while he guided Impala down. She broke out into a trot, making her way towards the entrance of Kansas where people were already lining the way. By the time they got there quite the crowd had gathered, cheering as they saw Dean triumphant with Castiel safe beside him.

Dean couldn’t help smiling as he waved, looking at the faces of the cheering crowds. “Childe Winchester has returned victorious!” people shouted. It was a little over the top and ordinarily Dean would have been embarrassed by the display, but he was too happy. He dismounted, helping Castiel down who was trying his best to cope with people putting their hands on him, asking him if he was ok and how he had survived his ordeal. He dealt with it with good grace, and when Dean turned to look at him, their eyes met and they both smiled.

“CASTIEL!” came a loud voice over the crowd. It was Gabriel, with Jophiel in tow. He practically barreled into Castiel, gathering the taller man into his arms and squeezing him. “I’m so glad you’re ok. Never…never do that again, do you hear me?”

“I would do it all again in an instant if it meant Jophiel was safe,” Castiel replied, and Dean watched as Gabriel hugged him even tighter. He watched as Castiel extricated himself from Gabriel’s arms only to be attacked by Jophiel, who flung his arms around him and sobbed into his shirt. “Shhh, it’s ok. It’s ok,” he whispered into the boy’s shoulder. “ I’m safe now. There’s no need to worry.”

“Dean!”

Dean turned quickly to see Sam running towards him, pulling him into a large hug. “You made it!”

“Of course I did, Sammy. Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I…just…You’re safe. You saved Cas and you’re safe. Jess and I were so…”

“I know, I know,” said Dean, squeezing Sam before letting go. “I’m here, Cas is safe and…”

“Childe Winchester.”

The crowd fell silent all of a sudden. Dean turned, so see King Michael looking at him. He instantly moved closer to Castiel.

“Childe Novak. It is good to see you safe. Are you well?”

“Indeed I am, Sir.” Castiel replied, bowing a little.

“And you, Childe Winchester? How are you?”

“I’m good, Sir. Very good. Tired, but otherwise fine.”

The King nodded. “Ah yes, a journey like yours will definitely make a man tired. You should rest for a while. Later this evening, there will be a celebration for the both of you but for now, go home and sleep.”

Castiel nodded. “Thank you, Sir.”

The King smiled and turned, ready to walk away.

“Wait!” Dean called and the King paused, turning back to look at Dean.

“Yes?”

“A celebration?” Dean asked, curious. “There isn’t normally a celebration for rescuing a fellow Childe?”

The King nodded. “You don’t think we should celebrate adding two new Knights to our realm? You want us to break thousands of years of tradition?”

Dean looked at Castiel, confused. Castiel shrugged his shoulders in an ‘I don’t know what’s going on’ gesture, before they both looked back at the King.

“I’m sorry?” Said Dean.

“Two Childes have completed their Quests and returned victorious. They have finally graduated to become Knights and we should celebrate.”

It finally clicked with Dean, and he widened his eyes in shock. “But the paper…Princess Elisa…” he turned to seek out Chuck, who was holding hands with a pretty brunette that had to be the princess. “I…”

The King smiled. “Quests come in many forms,” he began. “Some on rolled up pieces of paper, and others out of necessity. What you assumed was your Quest was obviously not meant to be, given that you had another, more important matter to attend to.”

“But…”

“And attend to it you did. You saved Castiel, defeated the King of Elfland, and found your True Love.”

There was a gasp from the audience. Dean looked again to Castiel, who was stood there rigid in shock.

“I trust you did indeed find your True Love?”

Dean nodded. “Yes,” he said, looking into Castiel’s eyes. “He was with me all the time.”

“And Childe Novak, who gave himself up selflessly for the sake of his nephew, who went to Elfland in his place, suffered under the King of Elfland and came out alive. I trust you found your True Love also?”

Castiel smiled. “I did,” he said, eyes shining. He extended his hand to Dean who took it immediately. “I truly did.”

The crowd erupted into cheers. Dean gathered Castiel to him and kissed him, held him close and felt as through his heart would burst with happiness. He looked around at the smiling faces of the crowd; saw Gabriel and Jophiel smiling and cheering at them, saw Sam with what looked like a tear in his eye as he smiled and clapped them both.

Castiel felt warm and safe in his arms, a comfort he had always yearned for but never knew he could have. They kissed again amongst more cheering, before King Michael announced that the crowd should disperse and begin preparations for the evening’s celebration.

“What do you want to do now?” Dean whispered to Castiel as their lips parted.

“I wish,” Castiel began with a glint in his eye, “I wish for you to take me to bed, Sir Winchester.”

Dean smiled. “Your wish is my command, Sir Novak.”

 

And needless to say, they lived happily ever after.

 

~The End~


End file.
